


I'm At Your Side

by vesta02



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Act 2, F/M, Feelings, Fussing, Illness, Love, Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-04 16:50:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5341394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesta02/pseuds/vesta02
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of drabbles and prompts featuring Warrior Marian Hawke and Fenris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted: ♞:Caring for each other while ill from the non-sexual acts of intimacy prompts

“You’re being a baby.”

“Hawke, please, I’m  _fine_ ,” But he wasn’t fine, not by a long shot. He waves a hand at her weakly as she fusses, stronger than he is in the moment. “You don’t have to do anything, I can take care of my-” He pauses, a sneeze erupting and seizing his entire body, “-self.” He finishes, sounding a little more pitiful than he did before.

Marian Hawke, however, isn’t swayed. “Fenris,” She sighs, “you’re not feeling well and you’re certainly not  _fine_. So how about we quit the lesson and get you to bed, hm?” Despite her brazen attitude and could-care-less smirk, Hawke cares very deeply. More than she would ever let on (though she’s not as easy at hiding it as she thinks she is). And Fenris? Her heart contracts a little, a fluttering hope that she dares not entertain right now. Perhaps it’s hard for him too, seeing one another after their night together, but Hawke is determined to make everything seem normal.

Fenris is less than thrilled, giving her a watery stare as he sniffs again. She straightens her shoulders, widening her stance, towering over him with one brow quirked. In any other circumstance, he could have given her a run for her money. Today, however, his shoulders slump and he sighs with a shrug of defeat. “Fine,” He grumbles, “you win, Hawke.”

“Good,” Marian beams with her usual smirk, “you know how much I  _love_ winning.” Holding his shoulders, she gently turns him, giving him a prod in his back. “Come on, let’s tuck you into bed.”

“Didn’t take you for the mothering type,” Fenris comments dryly, coughing loudly into his elbow. Hawke rolls her eyes, giving him another shove (a little more forceful this time) as they enter his disheveled room.

“Hush up and climb into bed,” Her expression softens a bit though, taking pity as she turns down the covers, waiting for him to sit and then slide into bed. “Someone has to take care of things at home now that-” There’s a lump in her throat suddenly and she does her best to push it down, swallowing hard against the emotion that rises up when she, once again, recalls that it’s just her and mother in the large manor in Hightown. “I mean, someone has to care at home, might as well be me.”

Fenris gives her a funny look. “Hawke-” He begins, but she’s pressing a hand against his chest, pushing him down until his head rests along the pillow.

“Shush, I’m fine,” She replies firmly, “you’re the one who’s sick.” She tugs the blankets up, gentler in her actions as she tucks the corners around the end so his feet don’t fall out and get cold. She takes considerable care, unable to stop as she runs a hand along his face. “You’re a little warm,” Hawke murmurs, a slight flush to her own cheeks, “but I think you’ll shake it off with a good night’s rest.” She pauses, adding with an attempt at being stern (but honestly when has Hawke ever been stern?) though it comes out mirthful instead. “And no wine!”

Fenris sighs, shifting, pressing his face into the pillow. “Fine,” He sounds heavy, weary and Hawke doesn’t feel right leaving him like this, even if he’s in bed.

She doesn’t say a word, sitting along the bed, tucking her legs beneath her. She rests a hand along his back, tentative at first before she rubs between his shoulders. It’s a soothing gesture that all but lulls him to sleep as she watches his breathing get deeper and deeper. Then, muffled from the pillow, he speaks sleepily.

“No one’s ever watched over me like this before.”

Oh.  _Oh_.

Hawke doesn’t know what to say for the longest time. Then, after a moment’s careful consideration (despite being decent at fussing, she’s still shite with feelings), she simply says, “I’m here for you, Fenris.” And for now that’s enough.


	2. Muffled through a door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Tumblr: Ways I said I love you, muffled through a door. Takes place following 'All That Remains'.

Grief is a creature that threatens to eat her alive.

It claws and hisses, snapping with ferocity that leaves her winded. It whispers in her ear late at night when she can’t sleep, reminding her again and again that she isn’t enough, she’s never done enough, she can never be enough. This is only one more mark against her in a long line that’s trailed with blood and tears that she never wanted.

It knots and tugs and twists until she’s left without any defense. Her sword is no match against her traitorous mind nor can plate mail keep it from hitting her where it hurts the most.

Not for the first time, Marian’s drunk herself into a stupor, slumped at her desk, resolutely ignoring the knocking that comes at all hours, the muffled voices of her friends seeping into her rooms. When she’s sober, Marian knows they mean well, each of them attempting to bribe, ply or forcibly drag her from her self-imposed misery.

Each knock is greeted with the same response: “No, go away.” Regardless of how deeply she hurts, Marian remains belligerent and stubborn, resolute in her efforts to shut the world out.

She doesn’t expect him to come. Considering their strained relationship these days (Maker, she’s trying to pretend that she’s alright, giving him the space he needs but it hurts more than she’s willing to admit), it makes sense that he would steer clear.

“Hawke,” His voice through the door causes her pause, her heart giving a traitorous leap in her chest.

Swallowing from her half-drunk wine (straight from the bottle, she has no time for glasses), Marian shoots the door a glare. “I’ll tell you what I’ve told everyone else,” she begins, her speech slurred but no less decided. “Go. Away.”

There’s shuffling, a sigh that’s barely audible. “Do you want me to go?”

Later she’ll blame the booze when she murmurs swiftly, “I don’t know.” Conflict rests uneasily in her heart as she lets out a heavy sigh, leaning against the door. “I don’t know anything.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Fenris murmurs, “but I am here.”

Damn him.

Marian slides against the door, legs stretching out in front of her on the floor, eyes firmly shut. “I failed her,” she mumbles, scrubbing her face with her palms, “I fail everyone.” She’s had too much to drink and she’s babbling, emotion welling in her chest as her voice grows thick and tight. “Say something. Anything.”

“They say death is only a journey,” his deep voice rumbles, pausing after a moment. “Does that help?”

Marian lets out a huff, pressing her palms against her eyes. “Not really.” There’s a few long moments of silence and she’s not sure if he’s still outside the door or not.

She doesn’t meant to say it, has kept these words locked tight in her chest, but they tumble from her lips without warning. “I still love you.” There’s no taking it back as she groans inwardly, clapping a hand over her mouth, bracing herself for whatever comes next. Leaving, she thinks bitterly, with very few excuses to tell her why.

She can hear shuffling outside and, surprisingly, the muffled tone of his voice lower to the ground, near where she sits on the opposite side. “I’ll stay a while,” he says softly, thankfully saying nothing of her drunken confession a moment before. It’s too much for Marian to hope that there’s a chance he simply didn’t hear her through the wood.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on tumblr, I like chatting and prompts: alittlestarling.tumblr.com


End file.
